The Power of Speech
by Phil929
Summary: An AU where Ryan's father wasn't arrested and continued to beat Dawn and the boys. Ryan meets the Cohens through a different way. Warning: Earlier chapters contain some violence.
1. Prologue

Warning: Contains some rather heavy violence.

The Prologue

The shadow flickered on the wall.

Ryan watched it, trying to keep his hands from trembling.

The shadow lingered for a moment and he held his breath, hoping that maybe he wouldn't be seen.

He held back the whimper of fear as the shadow approached once again.

He tried to make himself as small as possible. He was good at that, he'd been doing it practically from birth. He'd learnt long ago that the smaller you were, the less likely it was that he would see you.

He put his hand in his mouth and bit down on it, refusing to let out the scream that was trying to rip its way up through his throat.

He could hear the faint sound of his mother crying. Ryan knew he shouldn't have been hiding, he should have been helping her. He was too old to hide away from him.

A scream reverberated around the room and he recoiled even further underneath the bed. He didn't want to think about what would happen if he was found.

His mother began to scream for him, begging for him to help her but he couldn't. He felt frozen, trapped. He could feel the silent tears begin to slip down his face.

He swiped the tears away quickly, he'd learnt long ago that **he** didn't like tears.

Then, there was a deafening silence. His mother uttered no more cries and he suddenly didn't know what to do.

The silence wrapped around him and he felt his breathing escalate. His ears began begging for sound and they craved the slightest creak or footstep.

But there was none.

The feeling of uneasiness weighed down on him and he wished that he had his brother's strength. His brother would have left his hiding place and protected their mother.

He took a deep breath before shifting his weight a little. The floorboard underneath him creaked a little and he froze.

His ears once again searched for the sound that someone was approaching.

But, the only sound he could hear was his own heart beating.

The sun shone through the window and he looked at the blue sky outside. It looked so perfect, so problem free. If only life was that simple.

He shakily crawled out from under the bed and stood up as straight as he could. His eyes darted around the room, searching for something that he could use as a weapon to protect himself.

He moved as quietly as possible and picked up the hockey stick that, for some reason, his brother kept in his room. He'd never seen Trey actually play the sport and didn't know why he needed a hockey stick, but there were a lot of things he didn't understand about his brother.

He hesitantly opened the door.

The first blow caught him by surprise and it successfully knocked him on his front to the floor. It took him a few seconds to realise where it had come from. His cheek was pressed against the stale carpet and he could only see the boot of his tormentor.

He knew then that he shouldn't have left the sanctuary of under his bed. He should have seen this coming.

"Dad… please…" he whimpered, trying desperately to keep calm as he felt his father lowering his body on top of his.

He heard an almost growling laugh from the man on top of him.

He could feelhis arms being splayed apart and pinned down.

The older man sat on his back.

He tried to kick out but it was no use.

He strained his neck around and the look on his dad's face frightened him. It was clear the man was completely stoned and the panic inside of him escalated.

His dad's eyes were ablaze with a pure fire of hatred. His hair was greasy and there was a smear of red on his forehead. He began praying that his mom was alright and guilt pointed its grubby finger at him, that he hadn't protected her.

He tried to ignore the stench of alcohol on his dad's breath but the smell was beginning to make his eyes water.

He knew that it was useless to try and plead with his father. The man only got spurred on by tears and would become more violent. He turned his head back around.

He didn't want to see this.

He felt his father pull the hockey stick out from under his body and he squeezed his eyes closed. He tried to ignore the sensation it made as it slid out from under him. He knew what was about to happen and he desperately wanted to escape. He began to try and scramble away but his father's hold was too strong.

The first hit makes him feel dizzy, and he felt his head flopping to the floor. He felt his dad lifting his head up again by his hair and tried his hardest not to let out a sound. He knew it would only make things worse.

He gritted his teeth as the blows began to come.

After 15 years, he couldn't help to think that he should be used to this by now but it still felt as bad as it always did.

Ryan couldn't help but utter out a small cry.

He regretted it as soon as it was out but the damage was done.

His dad gave out a snort and rose a little higher to get into a better position.

He tried to wriggle his way to freedom but his father answered his struggle with a hand holding on to the back of his neck. Ryan saw the hockey stick being thrown away and he struggled once again, panicked.

He felt the hand on the back of his neck tightening. His face was pushed further into the carpet and he kept his eyes closed as tightly as possible.

The smell of the carpet joined the smell of alcohol and he tried not to gag on the assault of his nostrils.

He felt his dad lower again and he could feel his hair being used as a handle once again to turn his head around to face his father.

He opened his eyes gingerly, and was met with the sight of his father's burly face. There was a smirk there and he knew the fear was raw on his own face.

He began to struggle again as the face got closer but his father was pinning him down too tightly.

"You have got to learn to control your emotions, Ryan. I made sure your brother managed it and I will make sure you do." His face was so close and spit punctuated each word.

The words were cold and Ryan tried to ignore the real hatred that came along with them. He knew his dad meant what he was saying and he knew he'd do anything to achieve it. His dad was not a quitter.

He thought of his brother. He hadn't seen him in years; once he'd turned 16 he'd moved as far away from the house as he could. He'd been Ryan's rock, and since he'd been gone, his dad had become even more frightening.

He bit hard on his lip as he felt his shirt being raised and the dreaded belt being thrust down on to his back. He hadn't seen the belt coming and he was barely able to keep back the whimper. His dad liked doing that, to add an element of surprise into his beatings. That way, Ryan was never able to tell what was coming.

By the third lash he knew he wouldn't be able to keep back the tears and pain for much longer.

It felt like his back was on fire and burning freely. Each time his dad brought down the whip, he could feel his skin being ripped open and the fresh blood running down his back.

He gritted his teeth and was faintly aware of his dad punctuating each hit with some sort of weakness he had or some vicious comment about how he was going to keep beating him until one day he could keep himself quiet.

The words faded in and out as the pain invaded his senses.

His brother had always told him to count the lashes as it would give him something to focus on.

By the eleventh, he couldn't count anymore. The tears began to escape from his eyes and once he'd begun crying, he couldn't seem to stop.

His dad rose up and stood over him, but Ryan could barely feel the release of weight. His whole back was burning. Each breath provoked the pain and he whimpered on each inhale.

He could hear more insults coming from his dad but he couldn't concentrate on what was being said.

A sudden kick to his side rolled him over, leaving his back a victim to the scratchy carpet.

He looked up at the man before him. He saw him lift his foot and tried desperately to get away but it connected hard against his ribs, then again against his crotch.

He groaned and writhed in pain, trying to beg his father to stop.

The pleas were only responded by more fists and heavy boots.

By the time the black took over, he was very much welcome to the idea of oblivion.

tbc…

Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Ryan wasn't sure if he was awake or asleep anymore. His dreams were bombarded with images of his father beating him, swearing at him. When he awoke he was met with the real thing.

He hadn't seen his mom since that first day when things had suddenly turn even more ugly.

The things his father snarled at him made him worried for her. He'd cry out for her and he'd tell him to "Shut the hell up, she can't help you anymore," or "She can't hear you,"

He was treated like an animal and every day he could feel a piece of himself drifting away.

He knew the outside world had forgotten about him. His father forbade him from leaving the house and he always made sure to lock Ryan in when he left to go out himself.

Ryan spent the time trying to clean himself up, washing off dried blood or scrounging up stale bread to eat.

His hands shook and his back never stopped throbbing. He didn't understand this sudden increase in beatings. He felt so weak from all the blood he had lost and the pain gnawed away at his whole body.

He peered out the window, watching the cars go by. The couple in the house across the way were having an argument about something and his blue eyes watched them worriedly.

A car pulled up at the house next door and his heart gave a little flutter when he saw it was Theresa. He was about to start banging on the window, maybe she could help him?

Then he saw another person get out of the car.

Eddy? What was she doing with him? He can't have been locked in here for too long and she'd already moved on?

He felt the betrayal and hurt bubble through him and watched as Eddy leaned over to give her a peck on the cheek.

She giggled slightly before brushing him away and glancing nervously up at Ryan's house.

Ryan quickly hid away behind the curtain. She must have seen the movement though because when he glanced through the tiny hole in the curtain, she was still looking up in his direction.

He moved away and suddenly all of the hurt turned to anger, he ran down the stairs ready to kick Eddy's ass. If he wanted to steal his girl friend then he had better fight him for her first.

It wasn't until he reached the front door that he remembered it was locked.

The anger soon evaporated into a feeling of confinement. He was trapped in here, he couldn't get out. He felt like some sort of zoo animal being watched and played with by his father but never set free.

He fell to the floor, the pain and humiliation catching up with him. He ignored the sensation of tears welling up in his eyes and tried to breathe through the pain.

He couldn't show emotion, not any more.

He noticed a stain on the floor and decided to distract himself, to try and clean it. He stood up slowly, his body throbbing from his sudden brief burst of energy.

He went over to the cupboard which stored the few cleaning supplies that his mother used whenever she remembered that cleaning actually had to be done.

He gave the cupboard an aggravated punch when the door handle wouldn't turn.

He felt suffocated, shut away from everything. He couldn't do anything that he wanted to do, and there was nothing to distract him.

He couldn't stop the tears this time and he fell to the floor, the anger leaving him. He just wanted to be free, to get away from all of this. His father was killing him and he couldn't get away.

He didn't hear the door opening and he didn't hear the footsteps approaching.

He did feel the kick though and the boot smashing down on his face. He looked up at his father with terrified eyes and tried to keep back the protest as the man began moving his boot forwards and backwards over his mouth and nose.

When his dad finally let up his foot, Ryan turned over and gagged. Blood began quietly streaming from his nose and his eyes watered persistently.

"You will never learn, will you?" His dad seized him by the hair.

"I can't leave you for five fucking minutes without coming back to check on you. I'm going to have to put you somewhere, where you won't be able to get up to anything." he spat out the words and grabbed Ryan by the collar.

Ryan coughed and followed obediently, his eyes still stinging from the pain in his nose.

He didn't register where he was being dragged too, until he was thrust into a tiny closet.

He knew that his begging would do no good, so he bit his tongue against the desperate pleas which were dying to come out.

"I'll let you out when you know how to behave properly."

The door slammed shut and Ryan was left, trapped in the darkness.

He concentrated on breathing deeply. He'd never liked being locked in. He just hoped he wouldn't be left in as long as he was the last time.

He moved his aching body into a slightly more comfortable position.

There was no difference from when he had his eyes open and when he had them closed. It was just so dark.

He wondered how much his dad had seen. He was trying so hard to keep his emotions in order when his dad was around but he was in so much pain all the time. He didn't know how his brother had put up with it. He'd heard the sound of flesh meeting flesh while his brother was having his beatings but he'd never heard any sound from Trey, only his father's grunts.

He felt around his nose gently and came to the conclusion that his father had had stones on the bottom of his shoe or something. There were little cuts all around the rim of his nose and just above his lips.

His bottom lip had been spilt already but it felt even worse.

The darkness didn't help.

Trey had always told him stories when they were locked in the cupboard together. He'd tell stories of two brothers who managed to escape from their evil parents and they would always become rich kings at the end.

He'd loved to hear those stories. Thinking back on it, it must have been Trey's way to keep Ryan's tears away so that his father wouldn't come around for seconds.

Trey was always punished for Ryan's tears. He didn't know why his dad did that, and it had always made him feel terrible. Being punished was a lot better than someone else being punished for something he'd done.

He began telling himself the stories in his head, not uttering a word.

It was a childish thing to do and would have earned him another beating but his father was no mind reader and the words filled him with hope. Maybe, one day, he'd be able to wake up from this nightmare.

Just as King Ryan was riding his mighty steed, jumping over fences and racing King Trey across the fields, he heard a banging on the front door.

Ryan froze, trying to keep himself quiet. It was probably just his father playing tricks on him. He leaned his head back and began creating more imaginary tales.

He imagined that right now he'd been trapped by the evil wizard and that King Trey would come and save the day, picking Ryan up, and placing him on his horse. The two of them together, galloping off back to the castle, back to their home.

There was another knock at the front door.

He looked towards where he assumed the door of the cupboard was.

His breathing quickened when whoever it was knocked even louder.

He wondered why his dad wasn't answering the door. He was probably passed out on the couch. He really hoped that he wasn't, he didn't want to be locked in here for much longer with only his mind to distract him.

Whoever it was eventually gave up and Ryan breathed a sigh of relief.

He passed a few more minutes, wondering who it had been. Theresa briefly came to mind but he knew how much she was afraid of his father so he doubted it.

It was probably just one of his dad's friends or one of his dad's clients wanting another ounce of crack.

The throbbing in his head was beginning to claim his attention and he raised a hand to hold it. He felt exhausted and removed a stray shoe from underneath his leg to make himself more room to spread out, his legs aching.

He hated silence more than anything. Silence meant that something was going to happen, the quiet before the storm.

He couldn't hear anything and he wondered whether his dad had gone out.

He wanted to know where his mom was. She may have not been a perfect mom but sometimes she'd slip him out for an hour or so before shutting him back in the cupboard before his dad returned. Or she'd slip in some food for him.

He tried to call her name but he couldn't seem to let any sound out. He frowned slightly but thought that maybe it was for the better. If his dad was around, he wouldn't like it if he heard him shouting.

The throbbing in his head turned piercing for a couple of seconds and Ryan clamped his eyes closed. He groaned slightly and curled up in as small a ball as he could manage. When the pain subsided, he hoped that maybe if he slept for a little while that he'd feel a little better. Sleeping would also pass the time before his dad would let him out.

He shifted around and tried to get a little more comfortable.

He hoped that this time, he wouldn't be plagued with nightmares.

tbc…


	3. Chapter 2

Thanks so much for all of your reviews. Just a quick warning: This chapter contains some rather graphic, violent images.

Chapter 2

Once Ryan was let out, he didn't say anything to his father. He just looked downwards at his feet. He'd thought his dad had forgotten about him. He'd begun to think that he'd be trapped in there forever, till one day his decaying body would be found by some person disturbed by the smell.

He heard his dad snort at him and he waited with a bated breath for the pain that was sure to come any second.

His muscles ached from being cramped in the same position for so long and he put his hand against his neck, his eyes still cast down at the floor.

He felt his dad's hand land on his shoulder and couldn't help but to flinch away. Again, his dad snorted but the promised pain still didn't come.

"Go to your room." The order came in a short 'not to be messed with' voice. Ryan needed no further encouragement and limped along the corridor, not looking at his father.

He heard his dad walking in the opposite direction to the kitchen. He frowned slightly. The worst thing about his dad's beatings was the unpredictability of them. He had been so sure that he was going to get a beating but when the cupboard door had been opened; his dad had just stood back as he'd scrambled out of the darkness. Now he was being let off?

He entered his bedroom slowly and sat stiffly on the bed.

He wasn't sure what to do and didn't want to risk leaving the room. He sat quietly for a while, listening to the sounds his dad was making around the house.

He wasn't sure exactly when the smell first reached his nose. He didn't really notice it at first, but the smell was quickly mounting on him and it made his stomach turn.

He couldn't place where the smell was coming from. He remembered it from somewhere else but couldn't place where exactly.

Maybe his dad had blocked the toilet or something.

He moved to close his door, hoping that maybe it would stifle the smell somewhat.

He heard the front door slamming shut, and the sound of the key turning in the lock.

The feeling of exhaustion weighed down on his shoulders and he returned to his bed. His body ached so badly and he lay himself out. He hoped that a little sleep would help the headache that was had begun pounding from the inside of his skull.

He closed his eyes and played his usual game when he went to sleep. He wrapped himself in the blanket and pretended that someone was holding him, hugging him. He imagined that they were watching over him, keeping anything bad from happening.

A smile tugged at the corners of his cracked lips and he snuggled down deeper into the blankets, allowing sleep to wash over him.

xxx

When he awoke, the first thing that came to his mind was that he was painfully thirsty. He stretched slightly and grimaced as his body complained bitterly at the movement.

Slowly, he sat up and twisted his legs around to the edge of the bed.

A wave of dizziness hit him as he stood up and he put a shaking hand to his head.

He hobbled on wobbly legs to the door.

He remembered the smell, the minute he opened the door. He leant down trying to quell the nausea and trying to stop himself from gagging. He raised a hand to his nose, his eyes watering.

He began wondering down the hall with the smell growing even more terrible the further he moved down the corridor.

He entered the kitchen, wondering if something had gone off. He opened the fridge and sniffed. The milk looked a little off but was definitely not the source of the smell.

He turned around and looked around the room. He wondered how long he'd been asleep. There was no sign of his dad and he knew it had to be late in the day as the sun looked like it was about to set. Maybe he was at work.

He got a glass from the cupboard and wiped it vainly before pouring himself some water from the tap.

He sipped on it slowly, relishing the cool feeling it made as it trickled down his throat.

Once replenished, he put his glass in the sink and began looking for the source of the smell again. He didn't think he could take it for much longer without his stomach beginning to rebel against it.

A sudden memory engulfed him and he could suddenly remember where he'd smelt the terrible smell before. When they had lived in Fresno, they'd had a slight rat problem. The little rodents had lived under the floor boards. One day, the family had woken to that smell and his dad had checked under the floor boards only to find a rat that had obviously died down there, rotting away.

Ryan had been in the room at the time and he'd been so distraught by the sight, that his parents hadn't known what to do. They'd ended up taking him away for the day with Trey. Back then he'd really thought that his parents had cared for him. Those were the days before his dad lost his job and the family had been forced to move to Chino. Those were the days when he'd look forward to coming home after school.

He began wondering around the house. He found that the smell was the most terrible in the living room, or more importantly the cupboard in the living room. The same cupboard that he'd found to be locked the day before. The same cupboard, that when his dad had found him standing so close to it, he'd been locked in the different cupboard.

He began to feel a weight settle inside his stomach.

His fingers began to shake as his mind flashed to his mother. He hadn't seen her since **that** night when she'd been screaming, crying out for him to help her.

He stood by the door. He wanted to try and turn the handle, but he couldn't. He didn't want to know what was inside.

No, his dad wasn't a murderer. He may have rage issues but he wouldn't kill anyone, especially not his mom.

The two of them may argue mercilessly with each other but Ryan knew they loved each other. Or, at least he liked to believe they loved each other.

He took a deep breath, trying not to bring too much of the smell into his nose.

There was probably just a dead dog or something inside that his dad had killed with his car by accident. Yeah, that was probably it. His dad had probably run down one of the neighbour's dogs and locked it in the cupboard so that the neighbour wouldn't find out.

It couldn't be his mom.

He put a shaking hand on the door handle and tried to keep his breathing slower.

The door had been locked when he'd tried before anyway, so it wasn't like he'd be able to get in this time.

He pushed down the handle and shuddered when he felt the door open a crack.

The smell smothered him as the door opened.

His dad must have been in there earlier, and forgotten to lock it again afterwards.

He tried to hold on to his strength and pulled the door towards him.

The sight before him was so horrendous that it left Ryan just standing there, transfixed by the grotesqueness of it all.

His eyes grew glossy as he took in the scene.

She lay in a heap on the floor. Her eyes bore into his, the blue hardly visible anymore. Her skin was a sickly grey and her arms were full of lacerations.

He must have used a knife.

Ryan took a step back, shaking his head. As much as he wanted to turn away, he couldn't.

Her hair was matted with blood and her mouth was parted slightly. Her lips were swollen, and he could see her teeth glinting up at him from underneath.

And then he was screaming.

He fell to the floor, screaming and sobbing.

He couldn't stop, it was like someone had taken over his body.

He noticed blood stains on the carpet, they were coming towards him. His screams grew louder. He tried to struggle away but they were catching up with him, engulfing him in red.

He thrashed about on the floor, trying to get away.

He didn't hear the knocking on the door.

Or the voices from the other side of the door.

He didn't hear the door being kicked down.

All he cared about was getting the redness off of him.

He didn't hear the converse above his head, only the sound of his mother's endless sobs.

He didn't feel the man holding him down, or the other man pulling down his pants a little to prick his thigh with a needle.

All he noticed was the sudden darkness. But even in his induced sleep, he could still see his mom's eyes- piercing him. Her screams calling him to help her. God, why hadn't he helped her?

tbc…


	4. Chapter 3

Hi, thanks for the reviews.

Here is chapter 3.

Chapter 3

It felt like he'd never stopped screaming. When he awoke, he kicked out at the hands that held him down, the hands that wouldn't stop touching him.

He saw his mom's swollen face whenever his eyes were closed, making his stomach twist and turn at the sight.

The hands still tried to hold him down and he tried to bite at them, anything to get them to stop hurting him.

He felt material encircling his wrists and ankles and struggled all the more.

"Ryan, come on sweetie. Try and calm down for us,"

The voice was s kind and sweet that it took Ryan by surprise.

He peered up at the people before him and noticed a dark haired woman standing over him.

She smiled down at him and his big blue eyes watched her nervously.

"That's it," She gently ran her fingers through his hair. At first he flinched away from the contact, but the softness of the touch made him feel calmer. He'd never felt such a soft touch from an adult before.

She took his hand in hers and began explaining softly what was going on.

He moaned slightly when a big burly man moved closer to him and began moving his hospital gown aside to mess with the wires that were attached to his chest.

The woman still stayed with him though, and she continued to caress his hair and whisper reassurances to him.

He heard a beeping noise coming from above him, and he looked up sharply.

She patiently explained that the beeping was just showing his heart beat and that it was nothing to worry about.

Her gentleness with him made him relax more and he began looking around the room more carefully. He surveyed the many doctors around him and they began carefully explaining everything that was going on.

When finally the doctors all left, Ryan breathed a sigh of relief. He hated being touched by people he didn't know.

He suddenly noticed another woman stood to the side, watching him intently.

Unlike the nice lady next to him, she wasn't wearing a nurse uniform. She sponsored a suit and her blonde hair was clasped tightly in a bun.

She held a clipboard in her hand and was jotting down notes, glancing up at him through her half moon glasses.

"I'm Nancy, honey." the brown haired nurse told him, returning his gaze back to her.

"Do you want something to drink? You must be really thirsty."

Her brown eyes looked kind and he shrugged. He didn't want to show a weakness, just in case she turned out like the others. He hadn't yet met a nice adult and half of him was sure that she was just putting on an act. And yet the other half still hoped that maybe this one was different.

Nancy turned to the side and filled a glass with water from the pitcher, waiting for him beside his bed. She pressed a couple of buttons and Ryan felt the odd sensation of his whole body being moved into a sitting position.

He began squirming again and Nancy shushed him quietly. "It's okay; I'm just getting you into an easier position for you to drink."

She put her hand over his and squeezed gently. "You're safe now." she smiled kindly at him, moving so that he had to focus on her.

He began trying to raise his hand to accept the glass but realised his hands were still tied down.

She must have noticed his distress because she began talking to him again in a calming voice.

"The doctors just need to keep you still so that they can help you get better. She said as a means of explanation and began raising the glass to his lips. "Here, I'll help you."

He'd never been treated like this before and it was beginning to scare him a little.

He flinched backwards and she gave him a patient smile.

He looked around the room again and saw the blonde haired woman again. Her lips were pursed together and it made her look like she'd been sucking on a lemon. Her bright red lipstick, stood out in sharp contrast to her pale skin.

She sent shivers down his spine and he wanted to ask who she was, but he was too afraid of her. After all, his mom had always taught him not to speak to strangers.

The thought of his mom brought back the memories from the day before. He felt his breath quickening and Nancy's hand returned, combing through his hair.

"Hey, what is it?" she asked worriedly. She set down the glass of water and sat down beside him, in the waiting recliner.

She must have noticed that he was looking at the other woman as she was finally prompted to introduce the woman.

"Oh, this is Miss Forster. She's here to talk to you in a little while about what happened."

She continued quickly when she saw Ryan's eyes widen. "Hey, it's okay. Her bark is a lot worse than her bite. Or at least I think it is." she joked.

Miss Forster merely frowned for a minute at Nancy before fixing her eyes on Ryan once again.

He knew that he was never going to tell her anything.

xxx

"Frank Atwood! Your lawyer's here to speak with you." The guard banged on his cell door and Frank glared at him

He couldn't believe the weekend he'd had.

He'd been caught so quickly.

He'd had it all planned out. He'd skip town, leave the snivelling little brat with the body, get a job somewhere, and start afresh with a new name. With no wife or kids to hold him back, he would have been able to actually start afresh with his life.

It had sounded so easy but Atwoods really did not have any good luck.

He'd been pulled over by the cops for fucking speeding. Come on, when did 30 miles an hour over the speed limit count as going way too fast? However, the cop hadn't listened to his protests and he'd been carted off to the police station.

He'd tried to explain to his lawyer that he hadn't meant to punch the cop, it just sort of happened.

Unfortunately, he'd been held in custody. His record really wasn't working for him. But none of that stuff was his fault; it was just the Atwood luck, live and biting back at him again.

I mean, who hadn't tried to hold up a liqueur store when they were in their teens? All teens rebelled. He was just unlucky enough to have been punished for it. He'd actually forgotten about it till his snot nosed lawyer had begun reeling off all of his little 'incidents.'

To top it all off, Ryan had responded worse to the body than he'd thought and the snivelling brat had been found, quicker than Frank had intended. Personally, he'd hoped the kid would have rotted as well before he was found, but like he said; Atwoods really did not have any good luck.

Now he was being held in suspicion of murder and holding someone captive against their will blah blah blah. Well, it wasn't like the little brat would sell him out. He was smarter than that.

He followed the guard begrudgingly down the corridor to the meeting room.

His snotty nosed, rich prat of a lawyer was waiting for him. Frank hated rich people more than anything.

He grunted at the man before sitting down, refusing to meet his eyes. He wanted the guy to know, that he meant business.

The man hand out his hand for a shake but Frank just snarled at him.

"Well, Mr Atwood. Let's get to it."

He glared up at the man. He'd never listened to anyone and he sure as hell was not going to listen to this man.

xxx

"Now, I'm going to be recording this. I mean, if it's alright with you of course?"

Turns out the blonde? Her bite was really not as bad as her bark.

She was still freakishly manicured and Ryan couldn't draw his eyes off her nails which looked to be about five centimetres long at least with bright pink nail polish on them.

He shrugged his shoulders and her bright red lips gave him a tight smile.

Even though, she seemed nicer than he originally thought she was, he still was so not going to say anything.

He knew that if he did, his dad would actually kill him.

She began asking questions about the day before but all she got out of him were some panicked breathing and an increase in the beeping on his heart monitor.

Eventually, she turned off the recording device and sighed.

Ryan looked at her worriedly. He still didn't properly trust her and he knew that any moment she could turn nasty.

"Okay Ryan, how about I let you rest a little while and we'll go back to the interview later."

Nancy, who was standing by the side, stepped forward and nodded at Miss Forster.

"I think that's a good idea." He watched as the other woman walked out the door before turning back to Nancy.

He was beginning to feel the ache in his body that had been plaguing him for so long. He knew that the medicine was beginning to ware off.

He leaned back against the blankets.

"Ryan, I'm going to give you something that will help you go to sleep, alright?"

He nodded slightly and closed his eyes as she picked up a syringe from a steel tray that was in the corner of the room.

He felt something cold swipe his bicep and tried not to flinch away as it was followed by something sharp.

He opened his eyes slightly as he felt the nurse begin her gentle caress of his hair again. For once in his life he didn't have to pretend someone was caring for him. He had the real thing.

He drifted off into the darkness wondering what would happen when he was let out.

He was dreading the day when his dad would walk in. He'd never allowed Ryan to go into hospital, claiming that it was too expensive.

He was allowed to go to the ER for casts or sometimes burns but the minute someone mentioned the words "admitting him into hospital," Ryan would wake up to find himself, barely lucid, in the family's run down car being driven back home.

xxx

Ryan awoke to find another nurse in the room, sitting with him.

"Hi Ryan," she didn't have as nice a smile as Nancy but she still had a calming charm about her.

"How are you feeling?"

He looked down, embarrassed by the attention.

"There's someone here to talk to you, if you're feeling up to it." She gestured towards the door where a man was standing.

Ryan shifted nervously in his bed. He found himself wishing that Nancy was there with him.

"Hi Ryan, my name is Mark. I've been appointed as your social worker."

Ryan felt like a ton of bricks had fallen on him, when he'd heard those words.

Mark came further into the room.

"Now, obviously it's a little early for us to have found a foster home for you yet. However, we have plenty of room at the group home I work at."

Ryan felt his breathing escalate and for the first time he realised that the electrodes had been taken off of his chest.

Sensing his fear, Mark moved closer and continued.

"You'll have your own room and I know that you're going through a stressful time right now. But we're a family for each other at our little home. We only have a select amount of residents at a time and my wife and I are very good at finding homes for you guys."

Ryan looked down at his shaking hands.

He knew he had no choice in the matter and he merely shrugged.

"The doctors say that you should be out of here by tonight. My wife is preparing your new bedroom for you. I know that entering a group home can be scary but just relax. We're all here for you. All of you guys are going through the exact same thing, you just have to remember that."

Mark was definitely a smooth talker but Ryan still didn't trust him. He knew there was something off. He'd never met such a perky social worker before.

He switched off as Mark babbled on about something else.

Was his life really going to start being like this? Was he really about to be carted off to one foster home after another?

He'd always hated the idea of foster care and it had been his mom's way of making him behave.

She'd always tell him that if he didn't behave, she'd send him off to live with a new family.

She'd tell him how she should have followed her instincts and left him on the doorstep of some group home when his father had told her to when he was a baby. It had earned her a beating, returning home with him. She loved reminding him of that fact.

She had always loved rubbing his face in it.

He wondered if she could see him right now. Whether she could see how lost he felt.

He wondered it she cared and in all honesty, he suspected that if she could see him. She'd be laughing at him right now.

tbc…

Thanks for reading :)


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Ryan leant his head against the cool glass of the window. He was sitting on the dainty, blue window seat that Mark and Lucy kept in their living room.

He watched intently at all the cars that flew past. Every time he'd see a blue car, he'd sit up a little straighter.

He'd been out of the hospital for a few weeks now, and the superficial bruises had faded to a murky yellow. His body still held his father's scars but they were only noticeable when he didn't wear a shirt or pants.

Since entering the group home, Ryan had felt like he was barely keeping his head on top of everything.

Lucy, Mark's wife, had insisted that a therapist would come to see Ryan each day. She claimed he had 'issues' too deep for herself and Mark to help him with.

The therapist was easy to get around though. She was just some dumpy, old lady who was more concerned about getting her pay check each session than helping the fifteen year old blonde boy before her.

He'd just sit there, staring at her, letting her know who was in charge. She mostly just babbled on to herself, trying to avoid his glance.

The doctors had sent him home with some anti-depressants but Ryan refused to take them. His mom had once begun taking them and they'd always made her crash out on the couch in the afternoons. He did not need that right now, so he generally just dropped them in his pocket when no one was watching and then he would flush them down the toilet. 

He'd felt so alone and he'd thought everyone had forgotten about him so he'd had a shock the day before when, out of nowhere, he got a letter in the post. Much to Ryan's surprise, it turned out to be from Trey and not only that, but Trey was offering to take him out for lunch.

So now, Ryan sat on the dainty, blue window seat, looking our for his brother's blue car. He felt like his skin was crawling and he just needed to get out of this place. There were five other children living in the house. The youngest was only a baby and he was by far the eldest.

The baby had a strong set of lungs and he'd hear her crying all night. Lucy had told him not to worry, she was a baby and babies were usually the first to be adopted. 

The other children were all sullen. The next eldest from him was ten and he held it against Ryan that he was no longer the eldest in the house. He'd glare at Ryan whenever he walked past or entered a room.

But the opinion of a ten year old boy, really did not matter to Ryan. All he cared about was figuring out a way to get through the day in this place.

Running away sounded too dramatic and then he'd be forced to steer clear from the cops. That would take too much effort.

His last solution was Trey. At 18, Trey would be able to get custody, or at least Ryan thought that was so. He wouldn't mind sleeping on Trey's couch and he had a whole plan sorted where he could get a job at a restaurant and pay a little bit of the rent for Trey.

Really, what could Trey say no to?

He didn't want to think about what he'd have to do if Trey said no. 

He tried to keep himself distracted from the cars by fiddling with the man cuff that was on his wrist. Theresa had given it to him as an almost jokey birthday present but he'd never taken it off, unless of course he was in the shower.

A noise at the door way turned his attention to one of the younger children- Molly.

She was like him- quiet and untrusting. Out of all the children, she seemed to be the only one who even came close to understanding a little about what he'd been through even though she was so young. 

She spoke as little as Ryan did and they could generally just sit next to each other, relishing in each other's silence.

She came and sat down on the window seat next to him and he gave her a shy smile, before returning his gaze out of the window.

She followed his gaze with interest and every time Ryan would sit up a little higher when he spotted a car that could possibly belong to Trey, she would also. 

After a little while, he felt something being shifted into his hands and he looked down. 

In his hands lay a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it slowly, and he looked up briefly to see Molly watching him intently.

She was only 7, a little over half his age and yet she seemed so much older to him. She held a wise look in her eyes that made her look like she knew the world inside out. 

Ryan had seen the scar on her arm, on his first night, when she had been hot and rolled her sleeves up. It had taken his breath away. When he'd been going through everything with his dad, he had always thought hat he was alone in the world.

He'd never seen any bruises or cuts on Theresa and he figured that he'd been chosen to go through all this torment in his life. 

Seeing it on her arm had reminded him of how, when he was her age he would always have to remember to keep his scars covered. 

His mom had always told him to keep them covered to fend off people that would try to take him and Trey away.

He returned his focus onto the piece of paper when he saw the picture that had been uncovered. He took in the image for a moment, his eyes fixed on the drawing.

It was like an extract from his childhood. A child sat on the floor, tears covering its face. A woman, drawn with a large bottle in her hand was to the side. An exclamation mark was drawn next to her circular mouth. Then, there was a man with a beard to the side. There was an exclamation mark by his mouth as well. Ryan looked up at Molly and noticed that she was suddenly looking anxious.

The sound of one of the other children calling Molly's name reached his ears, and he folded the picture back up before putting it in his pocket. He took her hand in his and rubbed it lightly, giving her a reassuring smile. 

She smiled back at him and got up from her perch, ready to leave the room. 

The sound of a car horn from outside made her turn around and Ryan flushed with embarrassment when he realised it was Trey.

She gave him a sympathetic smile before running out of the room, to answer Diana's calls. 

He watched her leave and was about to say something, when the sound of Trey's car horn returned him back to reality. 

He stood up and waved at Trey through the window, trying to get him to stop beeping the horn. He could hear the baby crying, cranky from being woken up from her nap.

He hurried quickly out of the room before Lucy or Mark could tell him off. 

xxx

It was quiet in the car, the two brothers sat in silence. Atwoods never liked to talk and when they were in the company of each other, they just wouldn't. 

Ryan kept sneaking glances at Trey. His brother looked nervous and kept running a shaking hand through his hair.

He wanted to ask where they were going out for lunch but words just didn't seem appropriate right now.

He settled to staring out of the window and watching café after café go by.

Finally, Trey stopped the car. Ryan looked out of the window to see a seedy looking bar which he hadn't seen before. He felt a slight twinge of panic when Trey got out of the car and reluctantly followed him out, too scared to ask what was going on.

As he caught him up, Trey suddenly turned around. 

"You know, when your little social worker told me that you'd gone mute, I told her that she was fuckin' loony and no Atwood would ever go that crazy. I guess you proved me wrong…" Trey continued his tirade as Ryan stared at him dumbly.

What was he talking about? Why would Mark and Lucy think he was a mute? 

He thought back on the last few weeks. It wasn't like he'd been purposely not talking, in fact there were many situations when he'd even thought of something to say. It just never felt right to say those things, something always happened to distract the person he wanted to talk to.

He was about to say something but Trey was talking too much, which was very much not like Trey at all. Ryan noticed again just how nervous Trey was.

He wanted to ask if he was okay but when he opened his mouth to interrupt him, he couldn't seem to form the words. 

He just stood back and let Trey's words wash over him.

"Fuck Ryan… just tell me what happened." Trey turned concerned brown eyes to him. 

Ryan looked into his eyes and he noticed for the first time that his brother had their father's eyes. He hadn't noticed it before. 

Suddenly, Ryan couldn't bear the thought of living with him. He could see their dad in Trey so clearly and with the life Trey had had to live, he wouldn't be surprised if he turned to alcohol.

Trey grew frustrated by his brother's silence and turned away angrily. 

"For fuck's sake Ryan, they'll put you in an insane asylum if you're not careful."

He began walking again and opened the door of the pub.

Ryan followed obediently. He felt his plans being crushed. Since he'd received his brother's letter, all he could think about was leaving the group home and living with him, sharing an apartment with him and just being brothers. 

Trey had helped him so much when he was younger. 

He squinted at the darkness around him. All the men in the pub looked like old truckers, bandanas attached to their heads and a greying beard. Not to mention the eyes that tracked Ryan's every movement as he followed Trey up to the bar.

Trey sat down and nodded at the bar man. "Two seven and sevens please Bill," he pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket and the man nodded, surveying Ryan suspiciously before pouring out the drinks.

Truth be told, Ryan had never liked seven and sevens. Trey had always ordered it for him when they'd gone to bars and he'd always forced it down, trying to be polite. 

The bar man thrust it into his hand and Ryan thanked him quietly. 

It was quiet in the bar. All the men were having a contented cigarette and beer, they were just sitting quietly together.

For a brief moment, Ryan could see why Trey liked it here.

That was until one of the men came up behind Trey and whispered something in his ear.

Trey nodded grimly and, as if beckoning his dog, he gestured for Ryan to follow him. Ryan stood up haphazardly throwing a few dollars on the bar for Bill. The old man gave him a small, bare hint of a smile.

Ryan followed Trey out of the door and watched as the man indicated towards a rather fancy looking car across the road from them.

Ryan didn't know how to react as the man also gave Trey some sort of crow bar type instrument. Nor did he know what to do when Trey brought out a bag that looked to be filled with some sort of power type thing and gave it to the man.

The man walked away and when he was out of sight, Trey seized Ryan by the arm and began whispering to him, a frenzied look in his eye.

"This is our chance to be free, kid. Fuck, look at that thing. We could pick it up, sell it, we could earn a fucking fortune." 

Ryan looked down and Trey shook his arm in frustration. 

"Don't tell me you want to live with those fuckers. Do you really want to be shunned back and forth between places every fucking month until your eighteen?" His voice turned nasty and Ryan stepped back, looking down nervously.

He could feel himself starting to tremble slightly but Trey didn't seem to notice. He may have not liked the insecurity of living in the group home but it was so much better than dealing with situations like this every day.

Finally Trey let go of his arm and began swaggering over to the car.

"It's your choice Ryan. Come with me and live a life of freedom or stay with your _social workers_ and never know where you'll be the following month.

The words 'social worker' he snarled disgustedly and Ryan felt himself turning red. He'd been planning the moment when he'd ask Trey if he could live with him for months but this? This he did not want. He couldn't live with another Frank Atwood. 

He began walking away in the opposite direction, away from his brother. Distantly, he heard his brother shouting and swearing after him but he didn't turn back. 

He didn't turn around when he heard a window smashing, nor when he heard a car door opening and then slamming shut. He finally turned around when he heard a car driving away from him, the tyres squealing and the gravel spitting up from the road. 

He had no idea where he was going, he'd barely been able to follow Trey's long winded route from the group home to here. He merely kept walking. 

He felt so empty inside, he had no one. 

During all of his father's beatings he'd think of Trey and how brave he was. When, in actual fact, Trey had practically turned into their father. 

He wasn't sure if it was just his paranoia but he swore he could hear the sound of a police car's siren. 

For Trey's sake, he hoped that it wasn't to do with him but in his heart he knew, Trey was doomed to go to jail. Whether it be now, for stealing a car, or later on in life for domestic abuse. Trey was going down whether he tried to help it or not.

He just hoped that he wouldn't follow suit.

tbc…


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Ryan was still walking as the sun began making its descent down the sky. He had no idea where he was or where he was headed. Trey had probably done that on purpose, so that if Ryan hadn't gone with him, he'd be hopelessly lost. Well, the plan had worked and Ryan was hopelessly lost.

He just kept walking though, hoping that eventually he'd end up somewhere.

He felt completely lost, not just physically but emotionally as well.

He'd spent every day since Trey had left home, imagining his next encounter with his brother. Trey had almost seemed like an almost God like figure to him. He'd never considered the fact that Try could have changed, could have turned into someone not unlike their father.

There was no way he was going to have stolen that car, Trey should have known that.

Everything in the world just felt so insignificant.

All those stories that Trey used to tell him when he was scared with the two kings- Trey and Ryan… how could Trey have changed so much?

The beeping of a car horn brought his mind back to reality and he looked around, dazed. A car pulled up next to him and he saw Mark's head popping out of the open window.

Mark was about to speak but he must have seen the traumatised expression on Ryan's face.

"Okay Ryan, hop in. Let's go home."

Ryan opened the door slowly and lowered himself into the passenger seat of the car. Home? Home to him meant a beating before bed, a new scar to hide from prying eyes in the morning. Home to him meant spending every minute of every day, imagining scenarios that could never come true. He was most definitely not going home.

xxx

The car ride home was quiet. Ryan could see in the reflection on the window, Mark nervously shooting glances in his direction but he didn't say anything. He was grateful for Mark's seemed understanding that he didn't want to talk.

As they pulled into the driveway, Ryan was all set to take off his seat belt and open his door, when he felt a restraining hand on his arm.

At first he felt afraid, was Mark going to punish him for being out so much later than he had planned.

He turned worriedly to face the man. It was funny; he'd been so used to not having any beatings that the thought of having to go through all of that again, made his stomach flip.

Mark again seemed to sense the uneasiness in his expression and quickly removed his hand.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. I just know that sometimes it can get a little hectic around the house and I wanted to have a little chat. Now seems like a good time, don't you think?" He said trying to keep his tone jovial.

Ryan shrugged, still untrusting and gripping the door handle with his right hand to give himself support.

"I want to be straight with you Ryan," he took a deep breath and Ryan tensed up even further.

"I got a call from the police station today, not that long before you left the house with your brother. Sergeant Jones was letting me know that a Mr Trey Atwood had been arrested for stealing someone else's property. Seeing as you were the last person to be seen with him, the police would like to question you on your part on the matter."

Ryan shook his head slightly. He should have known this was going to happen. Not only did Trey drag himself down but he'd managed to pull Ryan down as well.

"Now, they don't think you had a part in the actually robbery, it was a car if you didn't know. They would just like to know exactly what happened." He waited for Ryan to say something but Ryan felt like he had nothing to say.

He felt like he was drowning in his family's messes and whenever things seemed to look like he was finally on his own, something even worse would happen to drag him down. He didn't think he could handle talking to a cop. His father had always made him afraid of police and the idea of talking to one, one on one, terrified him.

He'd always made sure to keep out of their way and yet his brother had managed not only to ruin his worked out plan for his future till he was eighteen but now because of him, Ryan was going to have to face one of his deepest fears.

"I'll stay with you for the interview of course, don't worry about that. You won't be alone Ryan. Remember, you have Lucy and I now. You're not on your own anymore.

Ryan felt a small weight being lifted off of his shoulders. He was so used to handling things on his own that he hadn't considered the possibility that maybe Mark would sit with him during the interview.

Mark smacked a hand on his leg suddenly. "Right, how about we go in for some dinner. Did you have lunch? You must be starving."

He bustled out of the car and Ryan followed, feeling like he was sleep walking.

He couldn't help but wonder where he would be if he had followed Trey and gone into the car. He guessed he'd probably be in juvy and the thought made him shiver.

xxx

That night, Ryan tossed and turned in bed, tormented by memories of his mom, dad and brother. He kept seeing his dad, thrashing him with his belt until the image would morph into Trey.

He saw his mother's body, lying in that closet. Her bluey grey skin tormented, and crawling with maggots. Then Trey would be behind him, pushing him into the cupboard and locking the door.

The image again morphed and he saw Mark and Lucy, smiling happily together, content. Then he saw Trey, a knife in his hand, approaching the two of them. He felt paralysed, he couldn't stop him. They couldn't hear Trey's haunted laughter as he laughed at Ryan's fear.

He woke up from his own screams but even though he knew he was disturbing everyone, he couldn't make himself stop.

Even awake, he could still see his mother's dead face. He could still hear Trey's cackling laugh.

Hands were holding him down and he tried to wriggle free, he needed to be free. He was always being restrained and he couldn't bare it anymore.

His throat was beginning to burn but he couldn't stop his screams. He felt his stomach beginning to give at the sight of the dead body and he was horrified to feel tears trickling down his face.

He wanted to raise his hand to swat them away, but the hands were still restraining him.

"Ryan! Listen to me! You have got to calm down." A voice floated into his subconscious. It was a voice of authority, a voice that commanded that it was to be listened to.

His screams soon turned to gagging as he saw his mom's head suddenly turn to him.

He felt something being held in his lap but he couldn't see anything. Everything was just images of his mother's dead corpse.

He felt a gentle hand begin to move up and down his back. The hand made him feel weak and he began to feel his energy waning.

He flopped into the hands at his back. They were so comforting and gentle. He'd never felt anything so nice before.

"Open your eyes Ryan," the voice was whispered into his ear. He was about to respond that they were open when he felt something cold press against his forehead. He began to notice that it really was too dark and that if someone was with him, it really should be lighter. He realised that maybe the voice was in fact right and his eyes weren't open.

It took an effort for him to pull open his eye lids but when he did there was a comfortable glow around his bedroom.

He felt someone holding him, but for once the touch was so gentle that he didn't want to pull away. There was a steel basket sitting on his lap and he pushed it away from him. He was surprised when someone came over and took it from him.

"Hey sweetie, you awake now?" It was a woman's voice and for a millisecond, Ryan thought it could be his mom, but then the same image that had been following him around for the past few weeks returned. His mom was dead, properly dead. As in she couldn't be holding him right this minute. He traced the voice back to Lucy.

She gently lifted him off of her lap and lay him down on the bed.

"There we are, are you feeling better now?" He gave a small nod and she gave him a small smile.

She pulled up the covers to his chin and smoothed out the wrinkles.

"Try and go back to sleep. That must have been one heck of a dream." He heard a male voice and recognised it to belong to Mark.

"I've got the kids back to sleep." He said quietly to Lucy and Ryan felt his face redden with humiliation for causing the house such a disturbance.

"We'll see you in the morning Ryan," She stroked back his sweaty bangs from his face and left the room.

Ryan didn't go back to sleep, he didn't want to disturb the household again. Something told him that if he tried to go back to sleep, the same thing would happen, and he'd piss Lucy and Mark off so much that they'd stop the kind act and beat him for waking everybody up.

He sat up and turned on the lamp by his bed. It was going to be a long night.

tbc…

Okay, so I wrote this a while ago and I have a seemingly false memory of writing the Cohens into this chapter. I must have dreamt it… No wait I'm sure I wrote at least Sandy…

Now I am very confused!

Anyway, thank you for reading :)


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Sandy Cohen didn't know what to think as he stood on the doorstep of number 10, Eagle Street. He'd never done anything like this before but the look on that poor kid's face when he'd asked about his brother, made the request he'd received impossible to refuse.

Now the sound of children playing was serenading him, as he waited for someone to come to the door.

He checked the name on the piece of paper once again. "Ryan Atwood," he muttered to himself.

He really hoped he was doing the right thing. He hadn't known what to think of Trey Atwood when he'd read his file. There were violent child abuse records and his little brother Ryan was included in most of the stories. He'd expected Trey to be a hard criminal, made savage by his troubled past. But the young man he'd met had been different than that.

Trey had been asking about his brother for most of the session and the genuine concern in his eyes had brought Sandy here.

The front door swung open suddenly, revealing a rather frazzled looking woman. A baby was hanging from her arm, a soother planted in its mouth.

She frowned at Sandy.

"Hi… uh good morning. I'm looking for Ryan Atwood. I spoke to your husband earlier on the phone and he said it would be okay if I came over." He stuttered, he hadn't properly decided what to say when he got to the door and it was clear. He was usually so good with words.

He held out his hand and she shook it, watching him sceptically. The baby in her arms gave a little squeal and she hugged it closer, rubbing its back to keep it quiet.

A man came up behind her "Who is it, Lucy?"

He stopped when he noticed Sandy and nodded at him. "Hi, you must be Mr Cohen. I'm Mark and this is my wife Lucy." Sandy leaned forward to shake his hand.

"Please, call me Sandy"

"Ryan's right through here." Sandy noticed the annoyed look Lucy gave her husband, it was clear she hadn't known he was coming.

Sandy followed Mark down a brightly coloured corridor, manoeuvring himself around children as he went.

At last they reached a room at the end of the corridor and Mark pointed towards its closed door. "He's in there,"

Mark opened the door slowly and peered his head into the room.

"Ryan? This is the man I was telling about, the one who met with your brother."

Mark moved aside and Sandy looked into the room. He noticed a blonde boy sitting on the window seat. The kid turned vaguely towards them and Sandy was shocked at the look he saw in those blue eyes. His eyes were blood shot and great purpley blue sacks stained the area under his eyes. Mark had mentioned on the phone that Ryan was having trouble sleeping. The teenager looked so defeated.

Sandy moved into the room and walked over to a wooden chair next to the window seat.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Mark asked and Sandy shook his head.

"No, thank you."

The room was filled with an awkward silence as Mark also sat down in the room.

"So…" Sandy began. "Trey and I were in court today. It looks like he's looking at a three to five year sentence. He's got a pretty heavy file of previous misdemeanours, so that was the minimum the court would accept." He paused, waiting for Ryan to take it all in.

"Trey asked me to come and check on you… to see how you are." Sandy frowned as Ryan watched the cars go by outside, his blue eyes glassy.

"He told me what happened between you guys. He says he feels terrible about it, he's very worried about you."

Ryan didn't seem to make any movement to show that he was listening to Sandy. He decided to change the subject.

"You know, my wife and I have been thinking about adopting or fostering for a while. Our son, Seth, is at college right now, far away in the east coast and its only the two of us rattling away in our house."

He turned to see Mark watching him thoughtfully.

He turned back to Ryan. "Trey mentioned that you both had been in foster care before."

Both Sandy and Mark noticed Ryan's jaw twitch.

"He said that he'd never seen you more unhappy." He continued.

Slowly Ryan turned towards him, his blue eyes burning into Sandy's.

"He asked me if I'd be willing to check on you every once in a while, make sure you're alright. I mean everything isn't alright, that much is obvious but do you mind if I do that?"

Ryan didn't answer but continued to watch Sandy.

"I'm going to give you my card. I know how tough these places can be, especially with so many younger kids running about."

As if in answer, the sound of a baby crying filled the room.

"I'll put my cell phone number down as well. That way you can reach me any time." He scribbled down the number and held it out to him. He held it there for a few seconds before Ryan eventually reached out a tentative hand to take it.

Sandy looked behind again and saw a smile on Mark's face. He grinned back at him before returning his gaze to Ryan.

The kid was turning the card over carefully in his hands, as if worried that it might tear at the slightest touch. It was clear he wasn't sure what to do with it.

"Right, well I guess my wife is wondering what's happened to me." He got up, knees cracking and shook Mark's hand.

"Bye Ryan."

Xxx

"You should have seen him Kirsten, he didn't do anything. He didn't even speak, didn't even shrug. Trey had the same sort of traumatised look on him as well but at least his worry over Ryan got him talking. I don't want to even imagine what's happened to the two of them over the years.

Sandy paced as he spoke, waving his hands in emphasis. Kirsten had never seen him look so distressed.

That sort of life seemed so far away from her sheltered life in Newport. He continued to pace and she got up from her perch to go to him.

"Honey…." He brushed her off, too riled up for comfort.

"The worst thing is that there are so many kids like Ryan and Trey who are swallowed up, chewed and spat out by the world. I just wish there was something I could do." He sat down heavily on the bed.

Kirsten once again went over to him, rubbing his back. "Honey, you're doing as much as you can do. You're helping Trey by defending him, you gave Ryan your number. What more can you do?" She pulled him into a hug and he let out a deep sigh.

The sound of the phone ringing startled them both. It was a bit late for phone calls. Kirsten went over to her side of the bed and slid under the sheets while Sandy went over to the receiver.

"No, no business calls now, Caleb can sort out his own problems at this hour." Sandy grunted as he walked over to it.

"Sandy Cohen," he answered gruffly.

There was no reply. Sandy was about to hang up, but something inside him kept him from doing so. A sinking feeling descended into his stomach.

"Ryan?"

Tbc…


End file.
